


Enica

by riventhorn



Category: The Eagle | Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 18:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riventhorn/pseuds/riventhorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus and Esca are building a new life for themselves on their farm, but old wounds are reopened when the lover of one of Marcus's old Auxiliaries arrives with a baby in her arms, begging for their help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enica

**Author's Note:**

> Written for The Eagle Reverse Big Bang 2012. Artwork by in_praesenti, which can also be viewed [here](http://in-praesenti.livejournal.com/17098.html).
> 
> This is set in the movie!verse, but with a few book!verse characters brought in. A warning for references to underage sex, although it would not have been considered that way in this period. 
> 
> Many thanks to in_praesenti for being wonderfully encouraging and helpful throughout this process. Thank you also to bigolarthurfan for the great beta, and to the mods for a great fest.

[](http://s1181.beta.photobucket.com/user/riventhorn/library/Eagle)

Low clouds scudded along the hillside, and the damp air clung to Marcus’s face. His feet had gotten wet from plowing down in the south field, and his leg ached. But satisfaction welled in his heart nonetheless. They’d made it through their first year on the farm. There had only been a meager harvest, given how late they’d started, but the winter had been mild, and they’d managed to eke through until spring. And now each breath he took was filled with the green smell of new growth and warmer weather. He could look ahead to summer days and long evenings spent with Esca beside him. Their companionship had unfurled into something Marcus struggled to name. “Love” seemed too common a term and inadequate for expressing their bond, forged as it was amid pain and loss, the deepest trust he had ever known, and the peace of a new beginning that he had scarce hoped to find. 

He had laid his hand on the gate, preparing to go into the house, when he caught sight of a figure, half-shrouded in the mists. It was walking towards him down the path that led from the roadway. It looked hunched—almost deformed. A beggar perhaps, though how a beggar should have gotten all the way out _here_ …

And then the mist cleared a little, and Marcus realized that it was a girl with a babe strapped to her back. Though that did not make the reason for her presence any more evident. He moved towards her, for she walked slowly, clutching the ends of a mud-stained cloak about her.

“What brings you here?” he hailed her. “Are you hurt?”

She stumbled to a halt, swaying a little. Her hair was dark from the rain, sticking to her forehead and curling out from beneath a worn mantle. “You are Aquila?” she asked. “Marcus Flavius Aquila?”

“I am,” he replied, holding out his arm to her. She could not be more than sixteen and looked ready to collapse. 

“I have been looking for you,” she said. “I went to Calleva, and they told me to come here, but I missed a turning in the fog.”

“It chills the bone,” Marcus agreed. “Come inside now and warm yourself.” Whatever this girl wanted, it could wait until she had rested a little. 

She followed obediently, though she twisted her hands nervously in her mantle. He brought her into the small cubiculum that adjoined the kitchen and their sleeping-cell. One day, perhaps, they would have the funds to build a small villa, but for now they made do with just the three rooms. 

The girl unstrapped the child and held it in her arms. Marcus was alarmed to see tears wetting her face.

“Come now, are you injured?” he asked again, but she shook her head and wiped at her eyes. He led her to the chair by the fire, adding another log and preparing to heat up some wine for her. But she grabbed his sleeve, clutching desperately.

“You remember a man—Tiberius Lucius Orosius? He fought with you at Isca Dumnoniorum.” Her eyes searched his face, pleading for him to answer positively.

Marcus frowned. He’d had hundreds of men under his command. To remember one—

“He came from Gallia Aquitania,” she continued. “And he always said that you were a man of honor. He told me how you were prepared to give your life to save them, when the chariots came down upon you!” And suddenly she burst into tears. The baby roused and began crying, too.

“I remember Orosius, of course,” Marcus said, though in truth he did not. But she was so distressed. “Is he ill?” Perhaps she needed money for a surgeon. 

“He is dead!” she cried, pressing the child to her breast, which only seemed to make it unhappier. Her own sobs grew louder.

Esca chose that moment to hurry into the house. 

“I was down at the barn,” he said, staring at the scene before him. “And I thought I heard a baby. Marcus, what—?”

Marcus shrugged, feeling helpless. “I’m not sure. She knew one of my old Auxiliaries. Apparently the poor man is dead.”

Esca’s gaze suddenly sharpened. “And is that his child?” he demanded. When Marcus did not reply, not knowing what to say, he strode over to the girl and grabbed her arm. “Is this his child?” he repeated, loudly to be heard over the babe’s wailing.

“Yes,” the girl managed. “Oh, Aquila, you must take her! They’ll kill her if you do not!”

“Take her?” Marcus repeated, stunned. “You want me to—to take your baby?”

“Please, _please_ ,” she begged, and to his embarrassment, she flung herself at his feet. “Orosius is dead, and my father will not let me in his house with a child by a—a Roman. He says I must leave her out in the woods to die or be picked up by some stranger who will make her a slave.” 

Marcus opened his mouth, but Esca spoke first, his voice harsh.

“You could be a whore in Calleva,” Esca said, “with no idea who is the father of your child. But you know that Aquila received money from the Senate, and land, and you think to use him to your own advantage.”

She shook her head. “No, I—it is true that I have heard of you and your great journey. But I am no whore. Orosius was the only man I have known.”

Esca narrowed his eyes. “What proof do you have?”

She fumbled in the satchel she carried and drew out a small bag. “Here.” She pressed it into Marcus’s hands. “It is Orosius’s _signaculum_.”

Marcus opened it, shaking out the small lead tablet inside. It did indeed bear the name of a Tiberius Lucius Orosius of the Fourth Auxiliary, Second Legion. He handed it to Esca.

Esca stared at it a moment. “It could be stolen.”

“No!” The girl clutched at Marcus’s tunic. “I should never do such a wicked thing. I loved him—you must believe me!”

Marcus tried to catch Esca’s eye, but Esca avoided his gaze, staring grimly at the girl instead. He could not understand why Esca was acting this way. Regardless of the truth of the girl’s story, she was wet and tired and deserved to be treated courteously.

“What is your name?” he asked the girl, gently untangling her fingers and helping her to stand.

“It is Saba,” she replied, rocking the child and trying to quiet her. “And my baby’s name is Enica. Though—though you could name her what you would.”

Marcus held up his hand to stop Esca from interjecting. “You need to rest, Saba. We will speak on this matter later, and you will tell me the whole story then.”

“She would be a good child,” Saba murmured as he led her to the sleeping-cell that he and Esca shared. “She could learn to cook and spin.”

“I know. Now rest and I shall summon you when we’ve some supper prepared.”

Saba fell silent, sinking wearily down onto the blankets. Marcus withdrew and returned to the main chamber. Esca stood there, regarding him silently.

Marcus held out his hand. “The _signaculum_.”

Esca gave it to him without a word.

“Her story could well be true,” Marcus said.

“And if it is—you are seriously contemplating taking the child, aren’t you?” 

Marcus lowered himself into a chair, wincing at the pull of muscles in his thigh. “And what if I was?” he asked. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

“We have enough work as it is without a baby to care for,” Esca retorted pacing across the opposite side of the room. “And there is her parentage…” He cut himself off abruptly and stooped to tend the fire.

“A soldier and a village girl?” Marcus shrugged. “It happens often enough. And why should it matter?”

“It is not that,” Esca said and stopped again, mouth tight.

“Then what? I cannot read your mind, Esca.” 

“It is…the fact that she is a British girl and he was a Roman,” Esca said at last, the words taut with suppressed anger.

Marcus blinked, shocked into silence for a moment. “What do you mean by that?” he demanded when he had gathered himself. 

Esca would not face him, but he spoke in a low, bitter voice. “I mean was it not enough for you to conquer our lands and our gods and our homes? Must you invade our very sleeping furs as well?”

The words cut like a blade. “It did not sound like it was rape,” Marcus finally said, his voice stiff and distant. He had thought they were past this.

“Rape or not, the result is the same,” Esca replied, in a dull tone that Marcus had imagined banished forever. “To raise such a child—”

Anger overwhelmed Marcus in a sudden passion, and he stood. “So it is only because we are two men that you can bear to lie beside me at night.”

“No.” Esca looked stricken, reaching out his hand. “I love you—more deeply than I ever thought to care for a person—”

“But it is well that I cannot bear children,” Marcus finished for him, sardonic, ignoring Esca’s outstretched hand. 

“Do not put words into my mouth!” Esca cried, flushing. “If we could have children, I should love them as none other. But this strange child—a Legionary’s get—”

“Do you forget that I was once the same?” 

Esca stared at him, and Marcus had the terrible thought that perhaps Esca did try to forget it, that he still looked on that part of Marcus with loathing. 

“Take the child, if it pleases you,” Esca said at last, breaking the taut silence. He went to the door. “But do not expect me to love it.”

*

Marcus fumbled for his chair and sat down again. He felt ill. How could he not have known that Esca still harbored these feelings? And the baby…

He thought again of Saba’s desperate face. Could he turn her away? And if he did not, if he took the child, what if Esca should leave him?

Marcus buried his face in his hands. Why had Jupiter sent this tangled problem to him? Had he not suffered enough turmoil and heartache for one life?

He roused himself at last and went into the kitchen to put some stew on the fire. Saba timidly entered the room awhile later, cradling Enica and looking a little more rested. 

“Sit down,” Marcus told her, holding out a chair. “I’ll get you some food.” 

Now that Saba was not clutching Enica so tightly, he was able to get a better look at her. Enica had wide blue eyes and soft tufts of brownish hair on her head. She regarded Marcus with solemn interest and then freed her arm from the blanket, waving it about. Saba gave Enica one of her fingers to hold. 

“I come from Segontium,” she said. “Orosius’s Cohort was stationed there for a few months. Father forbade me to have anything to do with him, but when he was transferred to Bremenium, I followed. Now my father agrees to take me back—due to my mother’s pleading, I think—but only if I get rid of Enica.” Her voice wavered. “He thinks I will not be able to find another husband with a—a soldier’s get in the bargain.”

Marcus sighed. For all who accepted Rome there were still those who tried to shun anything that bespoke her influence.

Saba tucked Enica’s blanket in more snugly. “Esca son of Cunoval does not want her, does he?” 

“It is only that he is worried we would not be able to look after her,” Marcus replied awkwardly. “I know little of children, having served in the Legions much of my life.”

Saba’s shoulders slumped, and she curled around Enica. “Orosius always spoke of you. I had thought that if anyone might help…”

Marcus sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Can you not manage with the pension owed to Orosius?”

Saba paled. “He did not have a pension,” she whispered. “He received a _misso ignominosa._ ”

A dishonorable discharge—Mithras! That a soldier of his should— “What did he do?” 

Saba swallowed and shook her head. “I do not know all of it; he would not tell me. Things had been stolen, and there was a trial, and they said that Orosius lied. But I did not believe it. He must have been protecting a friend.”

Bearing false witness. Well, no way to tell now if Orosius had been innocent or not. Marcus cleared his throat. “And what happened then?”

“He was flogged.” Saba’s voice broke a little on that word. “And a fever set in. I tried to heal him, but there was no money for medicine. He had not gotten round to fixing our roof, and it was always damp.” More tears slid down her face. “He did not even live to see Enica born.”

Marcus hesitated, feeling useless, and finally put his arm around her. “Don’t cry. Orosius would not want you so sad.”

Saba nodded, dabbing at her face with the end of Enica’s blanket. 

“And you’re sure your father would take you back, but for Enica?”

“Yes. I could find a husband again, from our tribe. But I could not just abandon my baby in the woods!” Her eyes begged Marcus silently.

Marcus looked down—almost unwillingly—at Enica. He saw clearly what her life would have been—and still could be. Poverty, never enough to eat, perhaps even slavery or death. 

Once, he had imagined having children. It had always been a hazy, half-envisioned future: rising to become the Primus Pilate of a Legion, restoring his family’s honor, returning to Clusium to buy back his father’s farm, raising a family of his own there. 

Instead he had found a crippled leg, an Eagle that had been restored but a Legion that would not be, a farm on the downs, and Esca.

He would not turn away from the second for the first—no, never, though once he would have scoffed at the idea of finding happiness in such a way. But around the time that he had woken in Calleva, body wracked with pain, he had given up on ever having children. 

And now—perhaps this was not a trouble sent to him by the fates, but a gift. A chance to have a daughter to love and raise as his own. 

“May I hold her?” he asked Saba.

Enica gurgled as he took her, but she didn’t cry. She weighed so little—just a warmth pressing against his chest, squirming restlessly in his arms. 

“Would you like to stay here?” he murmured to her. “Would you like that?”

[](http://s1181.beta.photobucket.com/user/riventhorn/library/Eagle)

A shadow darkened the doorway, and he looked up to see Esca standing there with Cub at his side. Cub bounded over, smelling of wet fur. Saba shrieked a little, and Marcus hastened to tell her that it was all right. Cub sniffed wonderingly at Enica, who blinked her big eyes and batted at his nose with her tiny fingers. Cub sneezed and sat down next to them with a huff.

Marcus laughed and let her curl her fingers around his thumb instead.

“So,” Esca said, and Marcus could not read the expression on his face. “It is decided.”

Was it? He looked down at Enica again and then back at Esca, feeling torn. Why couldn’t Esca see that this was a chance for them to nurture a little family, all their own? They did not have to live out their lives just the two of them, and Cub, and old memories crowding close on the cold nights. And then he felt guilty, for just this morning he had not wished for anyone else to intrude upon his and Esca’s happiness. 

But now Enica was here and…and he did not want to let her blue eyes and tiny hands become yet another memory to haunt him. 

*

He tried to talk to Esca again about the matter, but Esca merely said that he would not stand in the way of Marcus’s desires and turned his face away. Marcus grew angry, then, and in his passion went and told Saba that they would keep her child, the words flying out of him and leaving him a bit dizzy in their wake. But then he held Enica again and found that he could not take them back. 

He resolved to send immediately for Sassticca. And his uncle, but he cared more about Sassticca getting there quickly and showing him what exactly one did with a baby. 

“Will you go fetch them, Esca?” he asked the next morning. They had given Saba their bed and spent the night in blankets on the floor. Esca had not spoken to him nor touched him, but he had not immediately left, either, and so Marcus chanced to ask the favor of him. He waited, holding his breath, half-expecting that Esca would say no. 

But Esca gave a curt assent and went to saddle a horse. 

“Don’t spring it on my uncle all at once,” Marcus added when he rode into the yard. “Be…gradual about it.”

An unwilling smile quirked Esca’s mouth before he wheeled the horse and galloped off. 

Marcus had his usual chores to tend to, plus all of Esca’s. Saba made herself busy around the house, washing and cleaning. She had agreed to stay until Sassticca arrived—and also, Marcus thought, because she wanted to put off the moment of saying goodbye to Enica. 

In the evening, he told her about his and Esca’s journey to find the Eagle—which made her eyes wide with amazement—and then he played with Enica and tried to get her to talk.

“She isn’t old enough for that yet,” Saba said, chiding him. “She hasn’t even started to crawl.”

Marcus wondered suddenly if Esca had been the youngest in his family. Or had he watched his brothers grow? Marcus could count on one hand the number of times Esca had talked freely about his family.

*

Esca returned on the third day, a cart jouncing along behind him. Uncle Aquila and Marcipor sat in the front, his uncle clutching a straw hat to his head. Behind them were Sassticca and what looked like half the contents of Calleva’s forum. 

“Marcus, my boy!” his uncle called, and Marcus hurried over to help him down. “Is this tale of Esca’s really true? Have you—”

“Time enough for your chatter later,” Sassticca said firmly and chivvied them all into helping unload the cart. “When that poor babe has no cradle to sleep in or blankets to keep it warm.” Cub rushed up to them, barking, and she threw up her hands. “And here’s that wolf! Mercy, but he shan’t come near my baskets!”

Saba appeared in the middle of the uproar. “I’ve just put Enica down for a nap, can I help with—”

“There my dear, no need to fuss over anything,” Sassticca said, taking Saba’s arm and leading her towards the house. “A terrible journey you’ve had, and I’m sure the young master has been no help at all with the baby.”

“Oh, he—”

“But you were right to come to him. He’ll look after your babe like she’s his own flesh and blood. Now, I’ve brought a bottle, and I think it would be best—” Sassticca’s voice trailed off as she and Saba disappeared into the house.

Marcus exchanged a rueful look with Esca, but the next moment Esca’s face grew shuttered and still, and he went to put the horses in the stable.

“Are you sure about this, Marcus?” his uncle asked, laying his hand on his shoulder.

Marcus took a deep breath and nodded, though he could not help glancing towards the stables. If Esca should leave him over this—

“Well, then, take me to meet my new granddaughter. I must confess, I had given up hope of ever having a little one to dote upon beyond that wolf cub of yours.”

Roused by strangers and Cub’s barking, Enica was soon crying loudly. Sassticca fussed over her, and Uncle Aquila chuckled, and Esca only watched from the doorway, expressionless.

“Would you like to hold her, Esca?” Marcus asked him, hopeful.

“Someone must bring in wood for the fire,” Esca said and went outside again. 

Marcus was of half a mind to go after him, but Sassticca seized him and drew him into a chair, putting Enica in his arms. She handed him a glass bottle with a tiny spout on one side. 

“Now, I’ve warmed some goat’s milk,” Sassticca said. “Try giving her a little. She won’t have her mother’s breast after today.” 

Marcus flushed but took the bottle. His hands felt too large, and he was gripped with fear that he would drop either the bottle or Enica herself. 

Saba giggled at him, and Sassticca tried to appear stern but only managed to look fondly indulgent. Enica did not want the bottle and kept crying, but Marcus persisted and finally she sucked a little. 

Sassticca shooed the others off to unload the rest of the cart and set up the cradle that they had brought. 

“It belonged to my sister,” Sassticca said, “and has sheltered many babes.”

Saba was still next to him, looking at Enica, and he could see tears welling in her eyes. Marcus struggled with himself. He should ask Esca first, but Saba was right _there_ , ready to cry, and Sassticca looking on with her sharp eyes—“You can stay, too, you know,” he told Saba, the words sticky and unwilling to his ears. “If you would like to.”

She touched the soft wisps of hair on Enica’s hand, smoothing them. “I miss my home. Is it selfish of me, to want to leave her like this? Oh, I don’t _want_ to, but—” Her eyes glanced around the small, rough room—unfamiliar, strange. She wouldn’t know anyone here—no friends, no family. 

Marcus knew exactly what that felt like—adrift in a strange world with only one person to serve as your anchor. It had been enough for him. Esca had given him something to fight for and hope for, even during the darkest days of their journey. But he could not fault Saba for yielding to the yearning for home and kin.

*

Marcipor took Saba back to Calleva in the cart the next morning, promising to see her safely housed until one of her brothers could come to escort her back to Segontium. She held Enica for a long moment, and then pushed her back into Marcus’s arms hurriedly, fleeing towards the cart and clambering up, fingers grasping her mantle tightly.

“Poor girl,” Sassticca murmured. “But better all round that she should leave quickly.” She bent to look at Enica. “You’ll be much happier here, my dear, with the young master to look after you.”

“Saba seemed a good mother—and I know nothing about children,” Marcus protested.

“Tchah,” Sassticca scolded. “She was a silly girl, entranced by a uniform, and things did not work out as she had imagined. Whatever else may be said, you have a sense of responsibility and duty. And do not think that I have not seen the way you look at the little one.”

Marcus blushed, but he hitched Enica a little closer, marveling again at her sleight weight in his arms.

“Now, it’s time that she had a bath,” Sassticca said, surveying them approvingly. 

“And then you must think about preparing a _testatio_ for her,” Uncle Aquila added. “She’ll need some official recognition as your child to satisfy the law.” 

Marcus looked towards the barn as they walked back to the house, but there was no sign of Esca, who had disappeared there immediately after breakfast. Marcus was not sure if he was relieved or disappointed that Esca had been avoiding him. The words Esca had spoken to him still burned like smoldering coals whenever he thought on them. But he longed to have Esca’s support in this. Every time he caught sight of Enica’s cradle or heard her cry, he had to fight the urge to panic. He already loved her dearly but was terrified that he had done the wrong thing in adopting her. What if he should hurt her unintentionally? What if Esca should decide he was leaving after all? How could he ever manage alone? How could he bear losing Esca’s smile and the soft look in his eyes when he woke to find Marcus next to him? 

Uncle Aquila abandoned him to Sassticca’s tender mercies and went back to bed for a nap, claiming that he hadn’t gotten a wink last night due to Enica’s crying and Cub’s howling. Marcus did not call him out on it, although he distinctly remembered a loud snoring coming from his uncle’s bed when he himself had been awake, staring at the ceiling and wondering what in Jupiter’s name he thought he was doing.

He rather wished he could have a nap himself, but instead he paid attention to everything Sassticca told him about the right temperature for the water, and what soaps and oils to use, and how to hold his hand so that none of the suds got into Enica’s eyes. After the bath, he dried her off in front of the fire, and then got her to take some milk from her bottle again. She fell asleep, and he must have dozed off, too, because the next he knew, there was a soft touch on his arm, and he looked up into Esca’s face.

“Put her in the cradle, Marcus, before you both fall out of the chair,” he said, and he helped Marcus stand, supporting him until the muscles in his thigh loosened. 

“I half thought you were not going to be here this morning when I awoke,” Marcus said as he tucked Enica into her cradle, trying to contain the anger that wanted to bubble out of him.

“I would not leave you,” Esca said stiffly. “No matter my feelings about your…decisions.”

It eased his anxiety to hear Esca speak so, even as he could not help a twinge of guilt and resentment. Guilt for taking Enica despite Esca’s unwillingness, resentment that Esca would not let go of past hurts and be glad about their baby. He had been going to ask Esca to make a willow wreath for the door, as they couldn’t have laurel, but Esca clearly wanted nothing to do with the matter. So Marcus kept silent and went to get some parchment and ink instead in order to draw up a _testatio_. 

His hand shook at first, and he had to drink a sip of wine to calm himself before he could write the word “daughter.” _My daughter._ And Esca’s—if he would ever let his heart soften towards her. 

Her legal name could not be Enica, of course, even if they called her that for every day. She must be known as Flavia to Roman society. He wrote the name carefully and for a brief, aching instant wished that his father could be here. But his uncle _was_ here, and Marcus went to rouse him so that he could witness the _testatio_. It would be good if Esca signed it as well, but he would not trouble him with the matter.

Marcus resolved not to trouble Esca with anything regarding Enica. It had been his decision to take her, and he must bear the responsibility. 

*

“Sassticca, she won’t stop crying!” Marcus called, shifting Enica into another position. Cub was yipping, adding to the uproar, and Marcus tried to shush him, finally pushing him out the door with his foot. Cub proceeded to sit on the step and howl mournfully.

“Shhhhh, hush now,” he told Enica, trying to rock her but not being particularly successful, judging by her red face and tears. 

It had been four days since Saba left, and Marcus was seriously considering begging Sassticca to never leave. He had a number of painful red marks on his hands from warming the milk too hot, he was hopeless at getting Enica’s cloths wrapped properly, and it seemed like every time he picked her up, she started crying. But his uncle and Sassticca would be returning to Calleva on the morrow. 

“I have the deepest affection for the little one,” his uncle had said, “but I prefer to enjoy her presence with more than merely a thin wall between us at night.”

“We’ll be all right,” Marcus said, switching to bouncing her lightly in his arms. “We’ll be just fine.”

Enica wailed louder. 

At last Sassticca appeared, and Enica’s cries stopped a little while after getting into Sassticca’s arms.

“How do you _do_ that?” Marcus groaned.

“You will learn to handle her,” Sassticca assured him. “I’ll mind her for a bit while I’m stirring the pot. What I could do if I was back in my own kitchen! But I’ll manage a good meal somehow, even if it isn’t all that you deserve,” she added to Enica. They were planning to hold a meager feast that evening to officially welcome her to the household, along with a sacrifice to the goddess Cunina so that she would watch over Enica’s cradle. 

Glad of the chance to escape the house for a moment, Marcus went down to the barn. A horse, three goats, and a few chickens were all the stock they possessed, but Esca had his eye on a hardy little pony two farms over. They needed another stall for it, though, before they could begin to bargain. 

Esca was there, trimming the end of a board, the smell of fresh-cut wood heavy in the air. He glanced at Marcus but didn’t say anything. Marcus helped him lever the board into place, holding it steady while Esca drove nails into the timber. 

“I am looking forward to the meal tonight,” he said at last. 

“Yes,” Esca replied, remaining intent on his task.

“After suffering through my cooking for months, it’s a relief to have someone who knows her way round the kitchen.” The kitchen duties had fallen to Marcus, who at least had some experience with cooking from his Legionary days whereas Esca had never gone beyond roasting meat after a hunt. 

“I do not mind your cooking,” Esca said.

“The endless porridge and bread? I find that hard to believe.” Marcus attempted a smile.

Esca did not return it. “We managed well enough.”

“Still—it is good to have a change now and again.”

Esca maintained his silence, and Marcus gave up trying to converse. That evening, every time Enica’s name was mentioned, Esca busied himself with feeding scraps to Cub.

*

The cart, his uncle, and Sassticca disappeared up the road. Marcus let his hand fall and stood there a moment before going into the house. He heated some milk and poured it carefully into Enica’s bottle, then fetched her from her cradle, settling down in a chair that afforded him a view of the door.

“Are you hungry, _mellite_?” he asked. 

She responded to his smile, making a noise half-way between a laugh and a gurgle. Cub roused himself from the patch of sunlight he had been sleeping in and came over, nosing at her. 

“Is Cub being a naughty wolf, trying to drink your milk?” Marcus held the bottle to her mouth. “Sassticca thought you’d be able to start eating real foods soon.” He made a face at her. “You’ll have to suffer through my cooking, I’m afraid. Perhaps you and Esca can commiserate.” 

Enica’s wide blue eyes regarded him solemnly as she sucked industriously on the bottle. His smile wavered, and he looked away, speaking more softly. “But I forgot—Esca doesn’t talk to you, does he?” 

He tried not to mind Esca’s continued indifference and the cold tension between them. But he longed for a return to their easy companionship of the past winter. 

“I wouldn’t wish you gone, though, _mellite_ ,” he whispered. “Never that.”

He brought Enica out with him to the fields that afternoon, setting her down in a large basket. 

“Watch over her now,” he told Cub, who flopped down next to her and put his head on his paws. 

Esca watched him arrive with no comment and simply nodded at Marcus before going back to his work. 

He was down at the far south end when Enica started crying. Shading his eyes against the sun, Marcus started towards her as fast as he could manage. 

But then—Marcus stopped, shocked. For Esca was going over to the basket and bending down over her. Marcus was too far away to hear the words Esca spoke, but after a moment Enica stopped crying. Esca straightened and saw Marcus watching. 

“Is she all right?” Marcus called.

Esca nodded and motioned for him to return to what he had been doing. 

Marcus hesitated but then decided it was probably better not to call attention to Esca’s actions. 

His hopes, which had risen, were dashed that evening, though, when once again Esca ignored Enica. After Marcus had bathed her and gotten her to sleep, he joined Esca in their bed. He did not miss blankets on the hard floor, but for all the comfort of the mattress, he hated the space that now separated them and kept him from pulling Esca into his arms. They did not speak and at last Marcus drifted off, only to be roused by Enica’s crying a few hours later. 

The stars were growing fainter, and Marcus had been up twice with Enica when she started whimpering again. He laid there a moment and then forced himself to stir, pretending that the Duty Centurion had come round to alert him of a disturbance. A warm hand on his arm halted him.

“I’ll get her this time,” Esca said, voice hoarse with sleep. “Stay in bed.”

“But—do you know how—?”

“I had a younger sister. I know what to do.”

Marcus slumped back, pondering this new information. When Esca at last returned, burrowing under the covers again, he rolled closer.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“She died from a fever when she was three years old,” Esca replied, his voice filled with a queer mix of sadness and a certain lightness that always seemed to come when he let slip a detail about his past, long hoarded in his heart. 

Rubbing a tentative hand up Esca’s arm, Marcus dared another question. “But you looked after her?”

“Yes. I was eleven when she was born, and my mother was ill a long time after. There were other women to care for a baby, of course, but I took a liking to her—to Deiana. I’d always enjoyed tending to the newborn colts and lambs. I was still young enough that father indulged me.”

Marcus kept his touch steady, calming. “I’m sorry you lost her.”

“It was better that way; I know that now. Otherwise she would have had to face…what came after.” 

Marcus expected Esca to pull away, but instead he moved closer, resting his forehead against Marcus’s chest. Threading his fingers through Esca’s hair, Marcus held him, listening to his soft breaths and watching the light grow until he could make out Cub, sprawled by the doorway, and Enica’s cradle, close to hand.

A thought struck him. “So all that time Sassticca was berating me and ordering me about, you could have taught me just as well.” 

Esca chuckled and gave him a fond smile. “I admit that it was amusing, watching you try to learn how to wrap Enica’s cloths while Sassticca stood by with a wooden spoon in hand.”

“It put me in mind of the Legions and my old Centurion threatening me with the _vitis_ ,” Marcus grumbled. 

*

The day proved to be rainy, and once the chores had been done, they chose to stay inside the warm kitchen. Esca busied himself with hammering some crooked nails straight again, and Marcus sat on a blanket on the floor, playing with Enica. He had made her a little doll out of cornhusks, which she mostly seemed interested in putting in her mouth. 

“You’re like a little wolf cub, _mellite_ ,” he told her. 

“What is this word you call her?” Esca asked.

“ _Mellite_? It means sweet, like honey. Honey-sweet.” 

Esca made no comment, returning to his task. 

Marcus ended up dozing off there in front of the fire. He woke with a crick in his neck to find that Esca must have taken Enica to her cradle. Struggling to his feet, he limped over to their sleeping-cell and then paused.

Enica was fast asleep in her blankets, but Esca was kneeling in front of the large chest that held Marcus’s armor. He had opened the chest and taken out Marcus’s helmet, turning it over in his hands.

“I should really get rid of that,” Marcus said, and Esca jerked, startled. “There is no point in keeping it anymore.”

Esca put the helmet back but remained on the floor. 

“And it bothers you, to have it here,” Marcus added, sitting on the bed and stretching his leg out. 

“No,” Esca said softly and then louder, “No, there is no need on my account.”

“But is this not a reminder of all that you hate about Rome, just as Enica reminds you of it?”

Esca sighed. “Sometimes, I think on all that could have been. My brothers would have married—perhaps I would have married and had children of my own. Our clan would have prospered; my family—” He stopped, and Marcus could see that he was trying to keep the grief from rising and filling him. 

“Is it so hard to be here—to be with me?” Marcus couldn’t help asking.

Esca shook his head. “I love you. We are bound—always—you and I.” He stood and came over to Marcus, putting one arm around his shoulders. “But it is still strikes me as strange some days, to find myself on a farm with a Roman and a wolf and now a girl-child. You seem to handle it so easily. Do not fault me for being less steady. Bear with my tempers and glooms—won’t you, Marcus?”

He kissed Esca’s hand in reply. “I will. But do not fool yourself into thinking I am so sanguine. I have been terrified these past days, wondering if I was out of my head to adopt a child.”

“You are good with her.” Esca smiled and kissed the side of his mouth. “I like watching you with her, and the way she makes you laugh. I—I think it is a fine thing what you did.”

Marcus gripped his hand. “I should not have done it, though—not without your consent. All my talk of equality and then I run roughshod over your concerns at the first test.” 

Esca nodded slowly. “And yet, if you were not as you are, perhaps I would have met my end in the arena, killed because no one spoke for me.” He leaned against Marcus’s shoulder. “I cannot fault you for your kind heart.” He smiled. “Even if it means we shall not get a sound night’s sleep for months.” 

“I know it is hard to care for her, just the two of us, and all the farm work to be done,” Marcus admitted. “But we will be able to hire some more hands before long.”

“I suppose so, though I like having you all to myself.”

“Is that so?” Marcus smiled, tugging Esca down onto the bed. “How much do you like it?”

Esca proceeded to demonstrate his possessiveness when it came to Marcus. After, sweaty and replete, they lay in bed, listening to the rain.

“She’ll wake up soon,” Marcus said with a yawn. “Hungry, probably.”

“Mmmm. You had best go warm some milk then. I’ll go feed the animals.”

“You would not want it the other way round?” Marcus asked. “I would not mind. She is your daughter now, too, you know.”

Esca pressed his face against Marcus’s neck a moment and then kissed him. “I know. Next time I shall do it.”

“What he really means, _mellite_ ,” Marcus said when Esca had gone out into the rain and he was lifting Enica from her cradle, “is that he does not like me out in the damp with my leg. He will be fussing at you, too, before long.” He kissed her nose and tickled her, trying to drive away the grumpy, just-woken pout from her mouth. 

She babbled a little string of noises, fingers grabbing for his hand. 

He hummed to her, fetching her bottle from its warming spot by the fire. 

_The girls of Spain were honey-sweet,_  
 _And the golden girls of Gaul:_  
 _And the Thracian maids were soft as birds_  
 _To hold the heart in thrall._  
 _But the girl I kissed at Clusium_  
 _Kissed and left at Clusium,_  
 _The girl I kissed at Clusium_  
 _I remember best of all…_

*  
[](http://s1181.beta.photobucket.com/user/riventhorn/library/Eagle)

*  
 _Epilogue_

Esca grabbed the back of Enica’s tunic, holding her steady as she leaned over the edge of the cart. 

“Be careful, _mellite_ ,” Marcus admonished, giving the reins a little tug. “Or you’ll be off the cart and under a wheel.” 

“I was looking for Cub,” she explained, clambering up into Esca’s lap. “He won’t get lost, will he?”

“And miss your birthday celebrations?” Marcus shook his head. 

“He knows he’ll be getting a nice big bone once we get to Calleva,” Esca added, tugging lightly on one of Enica’s braids.

“Will Uncle let me go up in his tower this time?” The turret attached to Uncle Aquila’s villa had long held a certain fascination for Enica, but her uncle had put his foot down at letting her up there amidst all of his papers and notes.

“Well, you are going to be six years old. Do you think you’re responsible enough now?” Marcus asked, hiding a smile. 

Enica nodded vigorously. “I won’t touch anything!”

“I think he might be persuaded, then. And Sassticca is making honey cakes for you.”

“Though they won’t be as sweet as you, will they, _mellite_?” Esca licked the edge of her ear. “Mmmm—you’re good enough to eat!” Enica giggled and tried to wriggle away from him. 

Marcus still remembered the first time Esca had called her that. She had just learned to walk and had brought Esca a grubby handful of daisies that she had picked in the field. Esca’s face—still apt to fall into grim lines—had softened, and he had knelt down, gathering her into his arms. “Thank you, _mellite_ ,” he had whispered. 

[](http://s1181.beta.photobucket.com/user/riventhorn/library/Eagle)

Esca spoiled her dreadfully now—almost as badly as Uncle Aquila. Doubtless there would be a new doll waiting for her in Calleva. And Esca had whittled a family of tiny horses for her. All too soon he’d be insisting on teaching her to ride. 

“Will we go to the baths tomorrow? And the forum?” Enica slid off Esca’s lap onto the seat between them. 

“Yes, and perhaps we’ll even see a squadron of cavalry riding through on their way to Bremenium,” Marcus replied, ruffling her hair. “Now, how would you like to drive the cart for awhile?”

Enica bounced eagerly, and they got her situated on Marcus’s lap. He let her take the reins, keeping his own hands lightly wrapped around the ends. 

“I’m going to race chariots when I’m older,” Enica proclaimed. “Just like your race with Cradoc at Isca.”

“We’ll see, _mellite_ ,” he replied, just as Esca said, “You’ll be the best charioteer south of Eburacum.” 

They exchanged a look over her head, Esca’s saying plainly that if his daughter wanted to race chariots, she would race chariots.

Marcus sighed and sent a prayer to Mithras to turn Enica’s fancies to something else. 

Enica grew bored with cart-driving a little while later and went to sit with Esca again. They fell into a game, each trying to count more birds than the other in the fields that they passed.

Marcus watched them out of the corner of his eye. He supposed they must make an odd picture, the three of them—and Cub loping along beside the cart. Many would scoff at the idea that four such as them could be a family. 

But they fit together—somehow the curves and mists of Esca’s world had met the straight, sun-burnished way of Marcus’s and instead of shattering, they had entwined. And now Enica thrived in the crooks and crannies that the melding had created, as sweet and unexpected as a flower pushing its way through the broken cobbles of the forum.

~Fin~

**Author's Note:**

> A _signaculum_ was the Roman army’s version of our modern-day dog tags
> 
> Roman families often put wreaths of laurel on the door after the birth of a new baby. 
> 
> Cunina was a minor goddess who looked over infants
> 
> After the birth of a child in Rome or its provinces, the father would go to the Temple of Saturn (in Rome) or to the governor in the provinces to make an official declaration of the birth, known as a _professio_ and kept in the public archives. People who did not qualify for the official register would often make a private declaration, known as a _testatio_. I’m not sure what would be done with an adopted child, so I went with the _testatio_ , as it seemed plausible. 
> 
> The Romans did use baby bottles, often made of glass or pottery. 
> 
> I relied on _Children and Childhood in Roman Italy_ by Beryl Rawson--doubtless some things were different in Britain, but I figured some Roman customs had probably come through. 
> 
>  
> 
> And remember to go [here](http://in-praesenti.livejournal.com/17098.html) to see some wonderful bonus artwork and leave a comment for the artist for her lovely work!


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